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| Bruce McCrain of the Atlanta Dawgs prepares to throw from the outfield during the 22nd inning of Game 7 of the World Series |
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| Toronto Bluebirds' Emily Hilscher waits at home plate while the umpires debate her fate at the plate during the 22nd inning of Game 7 of the World Series |
Chapter 1
November 2, 2022,
05:42 local time,
Holy Georgian Stadium
Atlanta, Fulton County, Georgia, Holy American Empire
3-2. The Atlanta Dawgs led the heavily favoured Toronto Bluebirds in the bottom of the 22nd inning — the longest World Series game in history.
…and it came in Game 7.
This was what every baseball player lived for. For Bruce McCrain — who had accepted a July trade from the pitiful Borealis Bay Bacon — this was why he switched his soccer cleats for baseball spikes that summer, even while still serving as the starting quarterback for Yamoria University’s football team.
Balancing both sports wasn’t easy, but Bruce had always been that kind of athlete: restless, gifted, and hungry for greatness.
Still, closing out this game would be no easy task. The Dawgs had frustrated the defending champions every which way, using aggressive baserunning, timely hitting, and airtight defence to stymie a Bluebird team that lived and died by the long ball.
On paper, the Dawgs should have swept Toronto. Analysts- many of whom had predicted the Dawgs themselves would be swept- now conceded that Atlanta was the superior team in nearly every facet.
Yet two of Toronto’s wins came when ace Jason “Cool Papa” Dimes was on the mound. He was, after all, the best pitcher in the world.
However, Game 6- with Atlanta up 3–2 in the series- proved why baseball isn’t played on paper. A game that began 6–0 for the Dawgs ended 8–7 for the Birds, thanks to an improbable bullpen rally.
Even then, in the bottom of the ninth, Atlanta had runners at first and third. Bruce’s single made it 8–7, and a comeback seemed possible. With one out, the next batter hit a shallow fly- too short, by standard strategy, to score the tying run from third.
…but Bruce- nervous and inexperienced in such high-stakes moments- broke for second anyway, hoping to draw a rundown and buy the runner from third a chance to score. The runner hesitated; Bruce was tagged out; the inning- and the rally- died.
Toronto had forced Game 7.
Afterward, Bruce explained that he’d been trying to help, but manager Richard Pembleton blasted him publicly, calling it “the stupidest baserunning decision in history.” The next morning, pundits and bloggers piled on.
Now, hours and innings later, Bruce tried to block all of
that out. Two outs stood between the Dawgs and their first championship in
nearly three decades- the first since Atlanta’s triumph back in 1995, the last
time the Holy American Empire ruled baseball.
Playing centre field, legs heavy and brain fogged from exhaustion, Bruce reminded himself to stay sharp.
Emily Hilscher’s triple put the Bluebirds’ fastest runner on third. A deep fly ball would score her easily- but Bruce, a quarterback with a cannon arm, believed he could throw her out.
He just had to hope the next batter, fearsome slugger “Blue Jay” Feathers, wouldn’t send one to the wall.
Feathers did hit it hard- but straight at Bruce. He leapt, snagged it, and landed ready to fire.
Hilscher tagged up and sprinted for home. Bruce uncorked
a bullet to the plate.
From his vantage, she was out by half a step. The stadium roared its agreement.
…but the umpires conferred for an eternity and ruled her safe.
Bruce was stunned. So were his teammates. The crowd erupted in chants of “CHALLENGE! CHALLENGE!” Pembleton still had one left.
Even the broadcast booth — Joe Buck and Buck Martinez, “The Bucks”- called it a no-brainer. Martinez said flatly, “This is the World Series. You have to challenge that.”
Yet Pembleton stood frozen. When Ron Baxter followed with a two-run homer, putting Toronto ahead, Pembleton remained expressionless. His only words to the team: “Get ready for your at-bats.”
In the dugout, Bruce snapped.
“We could have won the World Series if you’d challenged that call!” he shouted, getting in Pembleton’s face. “Why on Gaia’s green earth would you let that go?”
Pembleton shoved him. The two argued furiously until players and coaches pulled them apart. Bruce stormed off, silently vowing to tell his agent he wanted out of Atlanta- win or lose.
In the bottom half, the Dawgs put their first two runners on. The crowd exploded; the noise was deafening. Jason Dimes, pitching in relief, looked spent. Two strikeouts later, Jon Runyian drew a walk, loading the bases for Bruce.
Dimes’ first pitch sailed over catcher Corrine “Red Ram” Singleton’s head- but took a lucky carom off the backstop, right into her glove. For some reason, Pembleton waved the runner from third home. Singleton fired to Dimes covering the plate. Out. Game over.
The Bluebirds had won the World Series on a bizarre managerial call, and Bruce never got to swing his bat.
As Toronto celebrated on Atlanta’s field, the stadium fell silent. For HAE fans, it was yet another heart-rending failure- another year where the nation that “bled sports and bled baseball” was denied by a northern, corporate machine.
For Bruce, though, this went deeper than loss. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off- that Pembleton’s decisions had been too illogical to be honest. Why no challenge? Why send a runner doomed by a mile? Why deny him his chance to win it?
The thought he dreaded most crept in: Pembleton had thrown the game. He couldn’t prove it, but it was the only way any of it made sense.
Standing there as the Bluebirds poured champagne on his field, Bruce felt something in him break. If this was what baseball had become- petty power, corruption, humiliation- then he was done with it.
When he finally walked off the field that morning, Bruce McCrain had already made up his mind: he would trade his bat for his helmet and dedicate himself fully to football- leaving the crumbling world of baseball behind forever.